Swelling Heart
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. VERY abstract. 'My heart is coated with steel in the vain attempt to keep my swelling heart from bursting.' Rated for blood. No pairings.


How long will it take before my heart bursts? How long until it explodes in a spurt of red, splashing clods of stringy blood all over? My heart is so full, I am sure it cannot last long. Love keeps pumping into it, and it never leaves. My heart will not distribute this love to the rest of my body. My lips are numb, my hands cold, my feet stumbling. This love is a contained love, chained and behind bars like a wild animal. My heart is coated with steel in the vain attempt to keep my swelling heart from bursting.

What will it be like when my heart bursts at last? Will this throbbing ever cease? Surely, my heart will explode in a burst of pain and then I shall never feel again. I do not think that will be a relief, though. I would rather feel this pain for a thousand years and then die than live without ever having felt it. I do not want my heart to burst; I do not want to lose this pain. That is why I enclose my heart in steel, to keep in the swelling pain as long as I may.

But cracks are running through the steel as my heart swells even bigger. Soon I shall have to put a new covering on it. And how long will that new covering last? The longer I keep in the swelling, the colder the rest of me becomes. I see your worried face looming over me as I lie in my hospital bed. Your silver eyes linger on my blue lips, and your fingers brush my cold hand. Is it your hand that is so cold, or is it mine? Surely it must be mine, for you have always been a shining beacon of warmth.

I cannot tell you of my pain, of the unbearable throbbing that pulses throughout my heart and splits cracks on the steel covering. If I told you, you would ask me why I cannot do away with the pain, why I do not let my heart burst to end my suffering. But you do not understand! Not all pain is bitter; this pain is more precious than a thousand jewels, and I will not throw it out in the mud like scraps from the table.

I must keep in the pain, I must! My clumsy hands clutch my chest, struggling to keep my heart in check. Your face, your beautiful face, is blurring in and out of focus. I am losing my grip on life. I knew that eventually this throbbing would be the end of me, but I would have no other ending than this. To die in your arms, filled with this terrible, beautiful pain... Blood seeps between my fingers, and you gasp with surprise. My heart is full to bursting, and the thick blood is creeping its crawling fingers through my skin. Oh, the pain, the pain! Such pain, such pain! I cannot hold myself in; tears of blood are seeping out from under my eyeballs, turning all my vision to red. Blood is creeping into my mouth, trickling through my clenched teeth, bubbling out my lips. I cannot keep all this blood in!

Sometimes love hurts, hurts terribly. But the pain does not take away its deadly beauty. I suppose the pain is the price of love, but a man once told me that one needs no reward to love. One can love and expect nothing in return. Perhaps that is the reason love hurts so badly. Do you not see? What value has equivalent trade in the face of such pain, such beauty? Yes. I will perish at the hands of this pain, this blood that bubbles up faster and faster. I think my heart is bursting, for the pain is past all endurance. I have to let it go. You understand, do you not? I have to let this pain go, let myself go in the intensity of this pain, this love.

Blood is pouring, gushing like a fountain, out of my mouth. My whole body trembles as the blood pours out. I cannot see for the blood that clouds my eyes. I cannot hear through the pounding of my pulse. But I can feel...oh, how well I can feel! I never knew the world could contain such burning, searing, pounding, exploding pain. Yet slowly I realize, through the pain and the blood that continues to force its way out of my mouth, that you are holding me. You keep your arms around me, oblivious to my blood all over you. You do not seem to care. You hold me, hold me tight, and wait for the blood to stop. You are carefully winding a clean, white bandage around my chest, mending my broken heart. I hadn't realized the pain broke my heart, but now you are picking up the broken pieces, the little scraps of a popped balloon, and are sewing them back together with your soft little hands.

Why do you try to save me? Can't you see that I'm trying to die? For once all this pain is depleted, once my blood stops racing again, life can have no meaning left to me. I will be a dead corpse walking around, colder than I ever was when I tried to keep the pain inside me. Yet slowly...ever so slowly...as you wind the bandage around my mended heart, I realize that my hands are warm again. I am so warm, warm all over, warm from the heat that emanates from your arms wrapped around me. Please...never let go.

The blood has stopped now, leaving me drained. My eyes begin to clear again, and I realize that I have not died as I intended. Why did you stop me? I look into your eyes, and I know the answer. Your silver eyes, glistening with tears of pain, pierce me right through. As we stare into each other's eyes, I feel my sore chest and realize that the pain is gone. But in its place, instead of a desolate emptiness like a drained cup, is a wonderful, wonderful contentment. How much more beautiful than pain is this joy! My lips, no longer numb and blue, smile with relief as I pick up the broken shards of steel scattered across my lap. Then I look up at you and hold you as blood begins to pour from your mouth. And I know...that this pain I have endured is nothing compared to yours.

**Author's Note: Thought of this when I was falling asleep one night, mulling over brotherly love. Completely figurative; none of the events are literal. Take out the references to Touka Koukan and various FMA quotes, and it could apply to just about anybody.**

**The way I see it, in this story pain equals love, and the blood pouring out of his mouth and eyes are the expressions of that love. So when the blood is coming out of his eyes, he's crying; when the blood is pouring out of his mouth, he's saying, "I love you," over and over again. And since he's been completely silent about such things before, his silver-eyed friend is shocked when he suddenly starts expressing his painful love.**

**And I'll give you three guesses as to who that silver-eyed friend is.**


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